Story of a Red Petunia
by whitesakura-rain
Summary: My name is Petunia Evans Dursley, codenamed the.red.petunia by some. C'mon in, if you will, and over tea today I might well tell you the story of my past with Lily, Potter, and.. well, you.know.which.one.lived.in.the.end. Review and control the plotline.
1. Intro

Mini Author's Note: Umm, hi, everyone? This is my debut fanfic—meaning comments will really, really be appreciated, flames or otherwise. I've always been interested in the 'alternative viewpoints' that JKR doesn't insert into her books, so I've been dreaming up plausible (and maybe not so plausible) excuses for certain characters' behaviour throughout the series. Petunia Evan Dursley's POV and circumstances struck me as rife with possibility and I chose her because—number one, she's a muggle (or otherwisely unmagical) and therefore few spells have to be researched (yeah I'm a lazy git), number two, her family doesn't appear all that much and I don't have to look back at the canon fics too often (just as well, since I'm on boarding at the moment and there aren't any JKR novels on hand), and number three, I'm just weird (but then of course you know that already). So, um. Enjoy?

Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor do I wish I owned them. Because if I did, it would be the Draco Malfoy series or Legacy of the Dark Arts series or The Fall Of The Light series. So therefore I do not hope to ever have owned, or ever to own, this brainchild of JK Rowling. And neither should you hope so.

Requesting: A Beta, and Criticism. (and someone to stop me from being weird)

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Alright; everyone ready? People, set, props?

Good. Let's start, then?

Filming of story's introduction, take one, start!

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**Introduction, START**

**-Viewer on the Flowerbeds-**

….

Hmm.

….

_Hmm._

….

…All right; this—this is too much. I've had enough! …Oww, my hand… shouldn't have slammed it down on the table so hard. Any fingers dislocated? Thank god, no. At least it can still turn the doorknob without pain. Flex it a bit behind my back. Now where was that annoying little… aha! Still there on my flowerbeds, and all goggle-eyed with a pole-axed expression. Hrrmph.

You there, punkoid. C'mere. _Yes_, you. Yes, _here_. Where to? Dense, aren't you? Here, into the foyer, of course. What do you take me for; an exhibitionist? I have no intention of letting the neighbours gossip more about your presence here than they already have, thank you very much. And hurry, before that snoop opposite opens her door and makes to have a good look at what's happening here-wise.

Mm; quick on your feet, aren't you? Close the door behind you. Good. I _so_ love efficiency. What, no response? Hrrmph. I suppose manners are too much to ask for from the young generation after all. Well, follow me and we'll have a sit-down at the kitchen. And keep your hands where I can see them. I spent half a day cleaning up the place and I will _not_ have disgusting outside-germs all over my ornaments.

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**Introduction, END**

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Cut! Good show, Pet.

Is Chapter One all set and ready to go yet? Yes? Super.

Meet you all back here in fifteen minutes!

Break time!

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Author's Note 2: I've decided to re-segment this fanfic, because judging by the way the whole story is going, it's going to create a whole lot of headaches and unnecessary grief if I retain the primary format. Sorry to anyone who got confused by all the 'fake' postings! Also, a big thank-you to Eleka Nahmen and PotterManiacGrl for their reviews to the original 1st chapter of SOARP; they made my night!

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Author's Replies:

**Eleka Nahmen:** Well, not surprising—there aren't really many Petunia fanfics on the net (laughs). For some reason or another, people just prefer writing about characters that appear much more frequently than these muggles. Queer, no? And thank you for liking my story It means a lot to me.

**PotterManiacGrl:** umm… tentative spoilers alert: during the course of this fanfic, Petunia will not be seen to be on good speaking terms with James… in fact she will more-or-less hate his guts. (swallows) I do hope that you don't mind? And I agree on the annoying-ness of the clichéd I-wish-my-sister-had-never-been-born angle—it's just… I dunno… (keels over; word-factory block at the moment—it's just too late at night to think coherently) o.o BTW, nice catch on the term "cynical". I was trying for "dry" but your word sums up a lot more XD


	2. C1s1

Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor do I wish I owned them. Imagine what the literary world would have to deal with if I did. All the recalls of published editions and what not! Chaos!

Requesting: A Beta, and Criticism. (and someone to stop me from being weird)

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Break's over, guys.

Pet, you ready? Great!

Let's roll! Chapter One, Scene One!

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**Chapter One, START**

**Scene One –Grudgingly Yours?-**

Well, what are you waiting for? Sit down! The chairs are perfectly dirt-free, I assure you. In fact, you might even be grimier than it. You say you're clean? My point exactly. Oh, you don't get it, do you? Oh well. Some tea, perhaps? Earl Grey? I approve. Here you go. Stop fidgeting and stealing looks into the living room. Now, what had I been thinking of doing? Ah yes. Time for a little confrontation.

First off, I'd like you to know that I've had enough of you. Stop looking so innocently at me. Puppy-dog eyes won't work. Stalking the house, indeed! As if we were some kind of suspicious household that had to be constantly monitored.

_So._ Spill. What business have you here, huh? Hrrmph. You look surprised to have the door pulled on you. You shouldn't be. I don't take kindly to being under surveillance, and the fact that I've been seeing you stand out here for the past hour or so, staring at my house, does _not_ help one bit. You look surprised that I noticed you at all. _Hrrmph_. As if I wouldn't notice a stranger on my flowerbeds. Mighty distracting when I'm supposed to be waiting for Vernon to come back from work, don't you think so? And _such _a scandalous presence you are. Everyone will be wondering who you are, and whether you're another long-lost relation. Oh my god, are you? A relation, I mean. No? Good. I didn't think that you would be anyway.

What is it, child? Speak up. I can't hear mumbles, you know.

Ah… I see. You came here because you've been wondering about me. I suppose that the old meddling Merlin-wannabe at that wizards' school let drop something about the truth in our whole bungled-up situation. How just like him. Running around and ruining other people's lives without concern. Pah. But since you're here, and the others are all out, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to share a bit of my past with you. Just a _bit_, mind. I wouldn't, not ordinarily, just it's been so long since I had a chance to draw the curtain on my past. _You_ understand.

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**Scene 1, END**

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Cut! Nice work, people.

Now, sepia tones ready for flashback scenes? Yes?

Okay, Scene 2 starts whenever you're ready!


	3. C1s2

Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor do I wish I owned them. It would be too chaotic for me.

Requesting: A Beta, and Criticism. (and someone to stop me from being weird)

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Scene Two starting in 3… 2… 1…

Now!

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**Chapter One, CONT.**

**Scene 2 –A Letter From Hogwarts-**

Well, as you well know, I, Petunia Evans Dursley, am mistress of 4, Privet Drive and carer of its inhabitants. Everyone thinks that I am normal. What do you mean, what do_ I_ mean by normal? Oh I see, you're one of those types who sees layers in everything, aren't you? Hrrmph. Anyway, everything thinks that I'm normal, as in non-wizarding, and perfectly muggle. And I've got news for you—everyone is right. What? You expected me to come out with the oh-so-earth-shattering revelation that I am in fact a witch, like my younger sister Lily Evans Potter? Well, here's news for you, buster—I'm not. Sorry to spoil your fun. And stop with the eye-rolling and fake gagging, young one. I know exactly what you're up to.

Right. Back to my little life story. I was born in 1958 –oh shut it with the wince; I'll have you know that being able to face up with age is very admirable– and for two years I was the only child in the family. In 1960, well, you know what happened. The baby boom. And Lily. My adorable little sister Lillers. Stop laughing! My special name for Lily is perfectly delightful, and don't you dare imply otherwise!

You ask why I call her adorable. Obviously, it's because she was. In spite of what you may have heard about my relationship with Lillers, I'll have you know that we were close for a very, very long time. And why shouldn't we have been? We were the only female children in a neighbourhood full of boys and old people. We shared the same interests, went to the same school, played the same pranks on our parents—in collaboration, of course, did all that midnight giggling about inane things, etc. And we looked almost identical, save for the colour of our eyes.

Wha-? Great. You don't believe me—again. Why is it so hard to drum the truth into people? Wait—let me fetch you a little something. It should be around… aha! Here. Photo album from when we were growing up. It's a bit dusty, but then again considering that it's been lodged between unused recipe books for ages, I'd be surprised if it were spotless.

Right; see this picture? I'm the one on the left. The picture is one of a very few, very treasured coloured ones that I have of that time period. Contrary to what you may think, coloured photography wasn't exactly the rage back then. It was expensive, it was unflattering, and we had to stay in horribly stiff positions in disgustingly hard dresses for intolerably long periods of time while incompetent photographers took their own sweet time setting their apparatus up.

But back to the pictures.

Huh? You can't see the difference between the two girls? Hmm; I told you the photos were unflattering. The light couldn't show up shades that well. At least it toned down the garishness of those frocks—they were truly hideous, yet mum and dad spent so much on them we didn't have the heart to tell them the truth. But squint a little and hold it up… yes, like that—that's it. See? The eyes are definitely different in colour. Mine were, and are still, this cornflower blue. Hers were a very strong emerald green, much like her son's. Other than that, though, you agree that we could well be twins? I thought so. The Evans Twins, the others used to call us. Ah, the good old days.

I can see that you're itching to ask a whole lot of questions. For example, why my looks have changed so much. It's a perfectly reasonable question so I don't blame you one bit, dearie. And your self-restraint so far is positively delightful. After all, my current appearance –tall, gaunt, necky, _blond_ of all things– is a far cry from the charming redhead I used to be. But I made this change voluntarily my dear, and—oh my, we _are_ getting sweet on names, aren't we? My bad—I can assure you that it won't happen again. So uh, child. Don't think that I'll be answering those questions of yours just yet. I want to tell my story at my own pace, and if you think for a minute that you can persuade me to hurry through things… well, dream on.

_As_ I was saying. Lily and I were really close. All through pre-pubescence, we were practically inseparable. That's why we got the nickname The Evans Twins. I knew all her friends, and she knew most of mine. I helped her with her homework, and she helped cheer me up when I started having all those PMS sessions. Shut that wince; it's not polite.

The year she turned 11, in the summer vacations just before school would have started, Lillers got this fancy cream letter from a school named Hogwarts. And surprise, surprise! It turned out that mini-_me_ was a witch.

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_-Flashback-_

It was a lovely day in August; warm, but not too warm; windy, but not too cold. The weather was invigorating, and it was declared a "scrumptious" day, perfect for laziness and playing on the swing in the backyard outside (which, incidentally, the girls had been doing all morning as they waited for their pancakes to fry). It started out like every other perfect day, and little did anyone realise that their lives were about to change as soon as the doorbell rang.

'Ding-dong; ding-dong.' The mail was here, right on the dot of 8 o'clock—as usual.

"I'll get it!" called the youngest voice as Mrs Evans and Petunia looked up from their task of clearing away the dishes after breakfast, and automatically Lily stood up to run for the mail. Meanwhile, Mr Evans went to get his necktie and prepare for work.

The house bustled with a cheerful hum for a while. Soon, though… "Lily's taking simply ages," remarked Petunia when, after the expected 1 minute (which was measured by the drying of the last silver knife), no sign or sound of her active younger sister could be found.

"Mmhmm." Languid, Mrs Evans finished with the crockery-rinsing and started to rearrange the table.

Sighing, Petunia placed the wet tableware in a dripping rack then dried her hands. Looking around absently for her sister, she went to the loveseat by the window and took up a patch of cloth and her needle, continuing with her stitching of a lovely cornflower rose.

Just then, a shriek of ecstasy could be heard, followed by a frenzied pitter-patter of bare feet as Lily came running into the kitchen, red hair loose and billowing in a cloud behind her. "Mom, dad!" she called excitedly. "Look what I got in the mail!" She was waving a piece of heavy, yellowish parchment which had flowing green script on it, and from Petunia's vantage point she could catch a glimpse of a shield-like emblem on its top left-hand corner.

"Let's have a look, Lilykins." Mrs Evans smiled indulgently while putting down the vase of flowers that she had been trimming. "Is it a party invitation for a friend's birthday party?" she enquired, calmly accepting the mysterious object of Lily's current exuberance.

"It's a letter from Hogwarts!" replied Lily with excitement, and Mr Evans, entering the kitchen, lifted a brow with evident surprise, something akin to recognition flitting in his eyes just before he went with hurried steps to peruse the letter with his wife. "It says that I'm a witch and that I've been accepted for studies there! Isn't it just great?" She did a little twirl of excitement before coming to stop before Petunia. "Puppet," she called her sister by a pet name, "don't you think it's terribly exciting?" She perched at the loveseat, emerald eyes glowing.

Petunia, frowning with a scepticism perfected to compensate for Lily's natural enthusiasm in all things, voiced her concern. "Lillers, are you sure that the letter is really what it says it is, and not a hoax by some kid down the street?" All she got was the insistent pushing of an envelope towards her, and she gathered that all the clues were there. "If you say so…." Stifling the urge to roll her eyes, Petunia took a good look at the formal paper sachet. It had no stamp on it, which made her wonder how exactly it had gotten into Lily's hands. But the back was sealed with a wax coat of arms, bearing what looked like an assortment of animals surrounding a great "H". And it was addressed to 'Ms Lily Evans, Green Bedroom, 6 Morrison Street'.

She narrowed her eyes in contemplation. "Too elegant to be a child's," she judged of the handwriting, and she doubted any of their friends knew the colour of Lily's bedroom since the girls had never brought anyone to the upper regions of the house before. The seal seemed to be highly detailed in fashion, and it seemed to be genuine as she couldn't imagine toymakers manufacturing such a large print for sale. Besides, the selection of animals was rather surprising. Hmm. Not exactly what she would have used, herself. "And there's no link between any of the creatures.…" She lost herself in thought for awhile.

At the same time, by the dinner table, the older couple conversed in low voices. "Seems genuine, doesn't it, honey?" asked Mrs Evans as she gazed up at her husband with a curious prepared-to-be-disappointed look that meant clearly that she was thinking a fond hope that would probably never come to pass.

"…." Pursing his lips, Mr Evans read the letterhead out loud in a musing tone: "Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry." He tapped the parchment thoughtfully. "Signed by Professor Minerva McGonagall, Assistant Headmistress."

"And enclosed with a list of necessary books and equipment," joined in his wife, giving him a meaningful look. "Is it… really?"

"…I think so, love." And then the four were looking at each another, at Lily, and at the letter.

"So…?" Petunia ventured, even as Lily rose uncertainly from her seat.

"I think little Lilykins will not be going to St. Mary's after all, hmm?" smiled Mr Evans kindly, his eyes filled with an emotion that only his wife could decipher.

"It's real!" was the squeal that Lily let forth, and then Lily was laughing happily and dancing around the kitchen, and Petunia was taking the letter to read, and Mrs Evans was catching Lily to hug her tight while her husband looked over the whole tableau with a satisfied air.

_-End Flashback-_

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Evidently mom and dad knew something about the whole wizard, squib, and muggle business, but they wouldn't spill when we cornered them on it. And um, no, I'm not a witch myself. I just_ told_ you; I am normal, through and through! Well, as normal as I can possibly be by myself, I mean. Or maybe I should phrase it as "if everything had gone as it should have". Oh well. You'll understand it all later. If you hear my whole story, that is. Some more tea? No? Biscuits, then? These are really good. Butter biscuits; homemade. Lily's favourite type, as I remember.

Back to the letter.

I hoped for a while that she would just throw the letter away, and that we could go together to St. Mary's Girls' College after all—it was a highly respectable establishment, I assure you, and familiar in the sense that it was a continuum of the junior school that we'd attended. But she, the ever curious little imp, wanted to see more of the world, and so we parted reluctantly after promising to write.

Days passed as they always had, only more boring; and for the first few months I found myself missing Lily so much, it hurt to even walk past her bedroom. Her owls were the only constant source of animated conversation for the rest of us all, and none of us back home could wait for term break to roll around so that the family could be together again.

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**Scene 2, END**

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Cut!

Simply lovely work on that flashback.

Ready for Scene 3?

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Author's Replies to original Chapter Two of SOARP:

**CalliM:** No guarantees as to whether I'll finish the story, but I'll definitely be continuing it—for as long as I have inspiration, that is. I really need to get back to my HP books! Being stuck 8 hours from home and surrounded by textbooks isn't doing anything to swell the creativity flow. Any ideas you can throw over? All help is appreciated


	4. C1s3

Mini Author's Note: To anyone who didn't read the author's note for the introduction, this is an alternative viewpoint for Petunia Evan Dursley's POV and behaviour throughout the series.This chapter (well, technically speaking, it's not really a chapter—it's more like an intermission) is on Lily's first owl home, since I'd like to just randomly insert some light-hearted fillers around before letter the old brain tick a little. It might also help to show how Lily's relationship with her family is preserved, and perhaps display the little quirks that I'll be engineering into everyone's character. If you think that this is a waste of internet space, drop me a hint and I'll try to pick up on it.

Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor do I wish I owned them. Imagine what the literary world would have to deal with if I did. All the recalls of published editions and what not! Chaos!

Creaky Staircase Disclaimer: The theory of Petunia hiding letters from Dumbledore under first, the loose floorboard in the second bedroom, and later, the creaky bottom stair in 4 of the staircase, is attributed to ginnybatbogeysyou's editorial Petunia and the Creaky Stair on mugglenet. Of course, I've adapted the idea to include letters from Lily and the other Evans as well. Okay, so now you know. No accusing me of idea-stealing!

Requesting: A Beta, and Criticism. (and someone to stop me from being weird)

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Props ready for Scene Three?

Right. Filming in 3… 2… 1…

Over to you!

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**Chapter One, CONT.**

**Scene Three –First Letter Home-**

"ding ding ding ding ding"

Was that the hall clock? Oh dearie me—it's five o'clock already? How time does fly by. I really need to get dinner into the oven… you there, stay right where you are and don't try sneaking around the house. Hmm, you say you'll be bored? How can watching a master cook at work be _boring_? Why—oh _all_ right. Wait just a few minutes. I'll get you something to pass your time with. Unless you'd rather leave now? No? I thought not.

Here you go.

Well, what are you waiting for? For heaven's sake, take the papers already! I can't hold them out _forever_, you know. I assure you that they are not be-spelled or tainted with poison. Oh you—you should be walking around with a beak and feathers. You say you're not a chicken? Well, _prove it_! Take the letters!

Ah, good. _Finally_. Trying to refuse these treasures, indeed. If only you had any idea how much _some_ people would love to get these in their hands! You don't know how lucky you are. You say you do? Hrrmph. Not by half, I'll bet. Read from the first one if you'd like to see them in sequence. They are a few letters by the family that I saved from… years ago. How many years? I don't want to tell you. Deal with it, buster.

Now, excuse me while I go and do some kitchen work.

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I see you're taking the most yellow one first? Wise of you. Good to see that you have _some_ brains after all. Wait—were you giving me a Look there? No? You sure? I'm glad. You don't want to know what I can do to people who rub on my wrong side.

By the way, the letter you're holding is the very first owl that we received. I hope you know the term 'owl'? You do? Good. Saves me a lot of explanation, then.

Um, come again? I didn't quite catch your words. Oh. You're wondering why the paper has paler sections at its corners? That's an easy question to answer. This is Lily's first letter home, and it tickled mom so much that she stuck it to the fridge with some magnets. They stayed there until the summer holidays rolled over and Lily took them down. Hence, the 'white' bits.

Enough of your babbling. Now read. In _silence_. I need to shred some cabbages.

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_2nd September 1971_

_Dear EVANS special support team:_

_Greetings from Hogwarts! This is EVANS special undercover agent Lilykins, reporting in from the 1st-Year dormitories of Gryffindor. Please be assured that everything has gone without mishap, and that the induction ceremony was as successful as could be hoped._

_I write to address certain queries brought up by EVANS-Support before my departure yesterday._

_In response to Secretary Puppet's speculations on the squad-allocation process, 'twas a wise and revered old faction of the institution (a Sorting Hat) that conducted the organization of rookies into brigades. New recruits were individually assessed and personality tests conducted before an overall study of the recruits were processed to decide who would be best suited where (meaning that the hat invaded our minds and decided, based on its findings, where we should go). Readiness for risks seemed the deciding factor for Griffindor's prowling lions, talent was the prerequisite for Ravenclaw's high-flying avains, a willingness to toil made up Hufflepuff's steady badgers, and ambition defined Slytherin's versatile pythons._

_Sergeant DAD might be interested in knowing that the Big Cat barracks are located on the 7th floor of a Tower in the same name, and the primary entrance is superbly password-protected with a painting to respectively deter and misdirect intruders from the other houses. Décor is mainly crimson-gold, with armchairs a-squashy dotted around a large common room (we believe in comfort, apparently), interspersed with the occasional table for strategy-planning. Handy fireplace also available for the easy destruction of top-secret information (currently limited to ruined homework from the other year levels). Fireplace is also connected to the Floo Network, but you would need to inform the Higher-Ups (the headmaster, and most probably the head of house) before appearing._

_Major MOM will be pleased to hear that the spiralling ascendic route to the female quarters is expertly designed to be male-repellent. Experimental attacks launched against female half of the lodgings revealed self-transfiguring spells cast into the stone of the staircase. As several brave Lions found out, continuous male presence upon staircase will set off wailing klaxons and result in said staircase turning into a stone slide that is virtually impossible to keep foot on. Further experiments by Lionesses concluded that the slide will also topple any female who happened to be on the staircase at the same time, and as such very stern recommendations have been given to the new Lions to the tune of "trespass, slip us, irritate us, and you will find your lives a living hell". This is of course easier done than said, as no similar spells are affixed to the routes to male quarters._

_Special UA Lilykins would also like to report that the doona and sheets provided by EVANS are perfectly adequate for the four-poster that she has been assigned to. Wardrobe and other needs are not to be worried about, and rations are nothing like what we have been conditioned to expect (meaning the gruel breakfasts were totally unnecessary). Hogwarts does not seem to promote much animal protection when it comes to menus, and therefore meals similar to the usual EVANS provisions are readily procurable._

_A tour of Hogwarts' grounds will be taking place shortly. All rookie squads have been commanded to appear before the General and his four Brigade Generals before Hogwarts' entrance, and my current location is far from there. I must go before punishments are awarded, but rest easy with the understanding that more news will be forthcoming._

_Until the next owl,_

_EVANS Special Undercover Agent Lilykins_

_PS: Missing you all, but still having great fun. Love you!_

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What were you laughing about? Oh that's right… I'd almost forgotten how… cute… this letter is. Lovely letter, though, isn't it? I remember I fair enjoyed the playful wordings she employed when I first read it all those years ago. Lily sounded so excited and _adventuristic_… ah, brings back beautiful memories of her. That also happens to be the only letter along that theme that we have left. Not that there were many—one can't very well describe silly antics by dorm-mates with all that military terminology, can one? Her other letters were all very normal-sounding. You might stumble across a few as you go through the stack. Or actually, quite a few. You'll see.

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**Scene 3, END**

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Cut!

Pause to reclaim that letter… it was genuine, lord.

Someone bring it back to the safe ASAP!


	5. C1s4

Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor do I wish I owned them. Where would the fun be in reading then?

Requesting: A Beta, and Criticism. (and someone to stop me from being weird)

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We're on a roll, aren't we?

Scene Four, coming up… NOW!

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**Chapter One, CONT.**

**Scene Four -First Valentine Away-**

Which letter will you next be perusing? Oh, the ones in this envelope? Interesting. Don't worry about getting confused—the letters are stapled together in chronological order so you'll be able to understand what's going on. If you're not too dense, that is. I'll be dicing carrots at the sink if you need me to explain anything. Try not to ask silly questions. I can't guarantee that the knife won't miss the carrot and come down very near _you_ instead.

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_11th February 1972_

_Dear Lillers:_

_Valentine's is just around the corner! Bought anything for anyone? Hint, hint._

_Mom and dad will be setting off for the country on the 13th. Wish them a happy second honeymoon when you reply, and tease them some! I'd love to see their faces when they read from you._

_Puppet._

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Mm; you called?

_Wha-?_ You took me away from the carrots for such a sorry question? I could wri—calm down, Petunia, calm down. Okay; I am calm.

So. You were saying…? Ah yes. I have letters written by myself because Lily left them with me. I _told_ you that these are letters by the family! Really, try and listen to your elders sometimes. Hrrmph. No more silly interruptions, please. My carrots need me. And my knife does not need to be near you. Do—we—understand—each—another? Yes? Good.

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_12th February 1972_

_Hi all! Bumper letter edition from the frivolous, beloved Lilykins—enjoy!_

_Dear Puppet: of course not! Who do you think your lil' sis is? Boys are so… unappreciative of good chocolate sense. They gug up everything in seconds and leave the wrappers all around the common room. Besides, if I ever got just one guy and not the others chocolates, I'd be laughed at. If I got everyone chocolates, I'd be broke. Therefore, I'm not getting anyone chocolates. But if you want some, I'd be happy to special-deliver you some chocolate frogs…?_

_Mom and Dad: I hear that you guys are going off on a second honeymoon? How just like you to try and abandon your darling daughters! Really, parents can be so unappreciative at times. Wanting privacy when you have two beautiful, lively, vivacious, talk-of-the-neighbourhood offspring? Gluttons, you!_

…_Just kidding. Have fun, and don't come back with an extra younger brother or sister for me and Puppet. Hint, hint—there is only enough space for two female Evans children at home, and we are those two! Understand? Good. Remember to use protection; promise?_

_Ever adorable, the one-and-only Lilykins; precociously yours._

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_15th February 1972_

_Dear Puppet:_

_Mom and dad still away? I've got something to say but I don't feel up to getting horrified howlers (can non-magical people send howlers?) so please don't show this to mom. Or worse, to dad. K?_

_Glad you like the chocolate frogs I sent you—did you have fun catching them? I know I did the first time I got them from someone. But that's beside the point._

_Puppet, you know how I said I wouldn't get any chocolate for boys? Well, I didn't, but—I did. I mean, I got chocolates, not that I bought them for anyone. I went down to breakfast and bam! I saw a wrapped box next to my plate. Isn't that just so weird? I haven't figured out who sent it yet, and whether it was from a boy—or a girl. Don't puke! Heh I can imagine your face puckering up as you read this. Worry not; your little Lillers is yet untainted by the evil world of love. I'm too young to be bolted down into a relationship! –Don't tell mom or dad I wrote that, please._

_Anyway, I know that the chocolates are for me because there was a note beneath the box, which I saw after picking it up. The handwriting was spelled so I couldn't figure out whose it was, but it definitely had "FOR LILY, HAPPY VALENTINE'S" printed upon it. Sca-ree! But not as scary as mom's face would look. Really, Puppet, promise me you won't show this to them?_

_Your lovingest little sister, Lillers._

_PS: You know I love you!_

_PS 2: So don't tell the parents! I don't want to be grounded or investigated!_

P-LP-LP-L

_19th February 1972_

_Dear Puppet:_

_Sorry to reply so late, but I've been bogged down with this horribly long potions essay! I swear, the teacher hates students—I managed to finish it with a lot of research, and I think it was pretty useful, so I shall be magnanimous and forgive him for inflicting this torture upon me._

_Still no clue on who Mr Chocolates is—by the way the chocs were sinfully delicious. I had them checked for spells before consumption so stop fretting! I hope mom and dad still do not know about that gift? And I suppose we'd better drop the investigations—they're going nowhere at all…_

_The accompanying letter is for the parents to read as well…_

_Lillers._

P-LP-LP-L

**Scene 4, END**

P-LP-LP-L

Cut!

Valentine fun; how sweet. Next…?


	6. C1s5

Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor do I wish I owned them. Yadda yadda yadda. Umm. Start reading, then

Requesting: A Beta, and Criticism. (and someone to stop me from being weird)

P-LP-LP-L

Is Chapter Two up now? No?

Well then, let's tie up Scene Five!

On Pet's signal—3… 2… 1…

P-LP-LP-L

**Chapter One, CONT.**

**Scene Five –Now Scat-**

"ding"

Six thirty! Freeze where you are, child.

I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave now. My husband and son will be back shortly and it would be so awkward to have you in here as well. I don't mean that in a bad way, of course. But you _do_ understand if a woman wants to have a quiet dinner with her family. As a concession, you can come again tomorrow if you like.

Now, hand those letters over one by one. No, you can _not_ bring any of them out of this house. No, you can not hide away in an empty room until you finish reading them. Yes, I am firmly resolute on this matter. Thank you. Good kid; have a cookie.

Where do I want you to pu--? Oh; just put the glass on the table. I'll clear up after you. Go on, now! Just knock on the door tomorrow afternoon if you want to come in. Don't stand out there in my garden again—it ruins the lawn, you see. And the neighbours _so_ like to gossip. Goodbye now! Tata.

P-LP-LP-L

**Chapter 1, END**

P-LP-LP-L

Cut!

Chapter Two's next... See you then!


	7. C2s1

Mini Author's Note: To anyone who didn't read the author's note for the introduction, this is an alternative viewpoint for Petunia Evan Dursley's POV and behaviour throughout the series. This section onwards is a totally new arrangement of SOARP's first posting. Look out for minor changes etc!

Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series, nor do I wish I owned them. Yadda yadda yadda. Umm. Start reading, then

Requesting: A Beta, and Criticism. (and someone to stop me from being weird)

P-LP-LP-L

Chapter Two finally starts. Yay!

Ready, team?

Set, go!

P-LP-LP-L

**Chapter Two, START**

**Scene One –Teacups and Rats-**

'Ding-dong; ding-dong.'

Just a minute! I'll be right there. Is it--? It is.

Well, hello there. I see you decided to take me up on my offer. Come on in. You know the way to the kitchen? Good. I'll be along shortly. Have to finish dusting the parlour. Help yourself to the treats on the table if you like, but don't be greedy. I'll know exactly how many tarts and crumbles you've taken, mind. I have a very good memory.

Right. Where were we? Oh look, a squirrel just went past. Enchanting. Reminds me of something, but what…? Ah, I remember now what it is. Rats. Don't get me wrong; it's a good memory. _Very_ good. Would you like to hear about it? Yes? Alright. No pictures to show you on that incident, I'm afraid. You'll have to make do with visual imagery.

About the rats.

You see, Lily did a few tricks for us once, when an older housemate of hers stopped by for some tea after we picked them up from the station. Very engaging young man, that; personable, too. Don't remember his name, though. It was too long ago.

It had been such a surprise to see Lily chat intimately with him. Back in St. Mary's Junior College, we'd been a very enclosed female community, whose contact with the other half of the species was restricted to the occasional field trip and picnics together. As such, for some time prior to Lily's departure for Hogwarts, we worried incessantly whether Lillers would be able to mesh into the new co-ed environment. Thankfully, it soon became apparent that our fears were unfounded.

For awhile too, we all wondered if there was something between Lillers and that charming lad, but then it turned out that he was just a brother of a friend. Ah well. She'd just been in her second year; it was way too early for little, innocent her to be interested in boys anyway.

Back to the magic.

Strictly speaking, Lily wasn't supposed to be doing magic at all while away from school. Underage laws or something. But since her housemate –not roommate! Bad, bad you– was of legal age, and magical use within an establishment is hard to trace to a specific wizard, she was free to covertly use magic—'covertly' being the keyword here.

That day was fascinating, to say the least. Do you know that Lily actually turned mom's purple tea-set into a family of rats? Honestly, she did! The teapot became a large matriarch, and all the little cups and saucers were her offspring. Old 'Grandmama' sat back on her haunches the whole time and stared us down, while the friskier youngsters flew all about the table.

That set had been hideous to begin with, though, so the transfiguration wasn't that hard to stomach. It could actually even have been an improvement on it, now that I think back on it. At least the little critters weren't brilliant violet. Mom's face was priceless when she saw the rats—we found out right there and then that she was mortally afraid of rodents. It explains her fastidious house-cleaning, I suppose. We never used that tea-set again. Thank goodness, though; I'd always hated drinking from those cups. Lillers knew that, and I always suspected after the incident that she'd done that particular transfiguration for my benefit.

I told her during clean-up later that she should have entered Slytherin—she has the inborn talent for tricks indeed? But no, she _would_ insist that Gryffindor was her true home. Psh. True _home_, indeed! I pretended to get into a tiff over that, and then she started pulling frog-spawn out of her pockets, trying to placate me.

I shudder at the memory.

Needless to say, it only made matters worse. I don't like amphibians, you see. No normal girl would. I remember that I shuddered too then, and her face fell before she realized –or maybe remembered?– that it was the sort of thing boys played around with, not girls. I knew instinctively by then that she'd fallen in with some boys at school and were hanging around with them more than with girls. But I wasn't all that displeased. It meant that I still had a special connection with her—we were still best girl pals, instead of just sisters.

P-LP-LP-L

**Scene 1, END**

P-LP-LP-L

Cut!

Thanks to **PotterManiacGrl** for her suggestions on what else to put in P

We will be inserting some stuff along those lines into the coming scenes!

Stay tuned, people!


	8. C2s2

Mini Author's Note: Been watching Kyou Kara Maou with my sister all week while trying to forget about school and homework. Holidays are almost over, so… I've decided to post. Lol.

Obligatory Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine. So don't give me any unnecessary credit.

Requesting: A Beta, and Criticism. (and someone to stop me from being weird)

P-LP-LP-L

Ah… more letters. Nice?

P-LP-LP-L

**Chapter Two, CONT.**

**Scene Two –Not so Lily-like, Is Lily-**

People tend to think that Lily's past was lily-white (excuse the pun), especially when contrasted against that of her eventual no-good husband and his partners-in-crime. Well, that is not so for the former –but very true for the latter–, as you will read.

Here, I've done some sorting with the correspondence and singled out this one for you first. As a little warning, the tone might be a little harsh.

P-LP-LP-L

_4th November 1973_

_Lily:_

_I am most displeased with your lack of intellect, lack of responsibility, and lack of sense. Another might be expected to partake of such foolishness, but you of all people should have known better than to take up a dare on Halloween to scale that fence!_

_So what if the Shrieking Shack mystery intrigued you? It's all very well when you think that ghosts and evil spirits do not exist, but kindly remember that as you told us yourself, in the wizarding world it is a very basic piece of information that such things are very real and very able to harm!_

_How dare you be so stubbornly silly? Has all the common sense we thought you capable of, abandoned you and flew off in search of a more deserving master? Or was your head turned with false courage and acclamades, and mesmerized with unthought-out plans, to let you imagine that you could put an end to what fully-fledged wizards in the area have not put an end to?_

_You do not mention anything other than what you have tried to foolishly do. No doubt you presume not to let us worry more, or maybe you even hope that we would not see the significance of your words? Well, fear not. Or perhaps I should say, fear a lot. I have discussed with mother and father about this. They are currently owling the parents of that guy friend of yours we met last holidays, and asking them to send you a Howler or twenty on our behalf. _

_You have been most irresponsible. The parents are currently not on speaking terms with you and will continue to give you the cold shoulder until you acknowledge your err in judgment and apologise. _

_Best make it soon. As you know, their tempers worsen as actions are delayed._

_And if you continue to act in ways that worry us, you will be grounded until the parents see fit to lift the rules they intend to impose upon you. _

_Petunia._

P-LP-LP-L

I won't be telling any more about that incident; I just wanted to let you know that Lily could be quite a brat when she wanted to. I have my suspicions about who put her up to that dare, but she never gave a definite answer and we wanted to leave it somewhere in the past to maintain family peace. So… so.

Hmm.

P-LP-LP-L

**Scene 2, END**

P-LP-LP-L

Cut!

What? The script has been reworked? But then what happens to the scene where the Evans go to Hogwarts?

Oh?

…I see.

Well people, you heard the script-writer!

Get walking and setting up Scene 3!


	9. C2s3

Obligatory Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series is not mine. So don't give me any unnecessary credit.

Requesting: A Beta, and Criticism. (and someone to stop me from being weird) Any volunteers?

P-LP-LP-L

And now for the spacing-out first crush-scene!

Cameramen ready? Go!

P-LP-LP-L

**Chapter Two, CONT.**

**Scene Three –Lily's First Crush-**

Oh, I'm sorry for ignoring you… I was spacing out just now. Memories flooding back, you know. It must have seemed like I was doing a Lillers on you. What do I mean? What do _you_ mean, what do I _mea_—OH. Ah yes, that's right. I haven't shared this with you yet.

Let's jump the story to sometime a few years after the teacups-and-rats incident, and after even the little segment wherein we were given the Great Hogwarts' Tour.

What happened was this: Lillers came home—well of course she came home; what am I saying? Lillers came home for the Easter break, and guess what? Brrr; _sheesh_ was she all starry-eyed and moony…

P-LP-LP-L

_-Flashback-_

It was the first day of the Easter holidays. The morning air was fresh and invigorating, and little morning sounds permeated the early-waking household as its occupants entered full pre-breakfast swing.

Footsteps touched lightly upon the staircase as a figure re-ascended it, the faint creaking of wood mingling with strains of rustling fabric, and then faltered as the slim figure paused minutely near the head of the banister.

Something was strange about the second floor today. What was it? It wasn't something different from usual mornings, but Petunia had the feeling that something wasn't as it should be, and that there should be something more… something more… but what?

….

The adolescent tried to shrug off the feeling that something was not quite right and trod towards her just-returned sister's bedroom. The niggling thought refused to leave the forefront of her mind, though, and for awhile she halted at the room's closed entrance, bending a puzzled frown as her right hand reached out to tweak the door handle.

Then realization slammed in—the bedroom on the other side of the door was silent. Much too silent for one that was usually filled with energy as rambunctious as its dweller. Uncertainty as to whether anyone was in bathed Petunia; then, impatient with herself she shrugged off the query and pushed down on the handle. Why wonder when you can ascertain, as she so often maintained.

The pastel green door creaked out a daring little muffled complaint as it swung on not-so-well-oiled hinges, then shushed as a bright-red head angled itself tentatively through the crack created, surveying the room for a certain person who should not still be in bed now—which she incidentally wasn't.

"Aha!" Finding its quarry, the head came in fully, leading with its entrance a long, lithe body garbed in a casual navy sweater with dark slacks. Actions exaggerated, Petunia navigated her way past a maze of hazardously-piled recently-unpacked clothing and books before coming to halt before a very otherwisely-absorbed figure.

And then…

"Morning, sis! Hey Lillers, can I borro-- …Lillers?" speaking up, Petunia tapped her sister's shoulder as the latter sat looking out of her bedroom window.

"…Mm?" replied the younger girl dreamily, her right index finger playing with a lock of copper hair. A highly unusual reaction from someone of her spirit, as her sister thought in surprise.

Petunia decided that Lily was just in a contemplative mood and asked the question she had made her way upstairs for. "Can I borrow your Herbology textbook before breakfast? I've been meaning to check whether some of the weirder plants around have any connection with..." she trailed off, eyes narrowing a little at the other's continuing lack of meaningful reaction.

"…Mm." Daydreaming Lily obviously thought that the pause was an indication for her to give some input. Bad guess.

Blue eyes narrowed further. "…Lillers, you there?" Petunia's hands were on her hips now, a definite frown etched on her brow which meant that she was unsettled and not in a jovial mood.

"…Mm?" The person by the windowsill continued to play with her hair, thoughts up in the clouds which she was gazing into, blissfully unaware that she was throwing her sister's equilibrium.

Petunia took a deep breath, tempted to reach out and deal a smack upside of Lily's head. Yet she found herself strangely reluctant to do so, perhaps feeling lethargic thanks to the beautiful weather outside. Or perhaps seeing her sister so unresponsive just deflated her. Or perhaps… she didn't know herself why she wasn't mauling Lily, but _anyway._ "You're not listening, are you?" A hint of resignation crept into the older girl's voice.

"…Mm." The bright green eyes had not once turned her sister's way.

"…Are you here? Tick tock, tick tock, breakfast bell just rang…?" she tried again. It was just not fun when she couldn't get a rise out of Lily.

"…Mm?"

"…." Petunia shook her head and let her words fizz out, despairing of getting a normal conversation to proceed. "Tell me when you're back in your body and ready to start your holidays," she tossed over her shoulder as she exited the room. "And come down for breakfast soon or we won't leave any for you."

"…Mm."

In the end, a distracted Lily was pulled down the stairs by a gaily-chattering Mrs Evans and plonked into her customary seat, whereupon she was subjugated to some scary staring-at by her elder sister that she couldn't figure out the reasons of.

"Puppet, are you alright? You've been frowning at me all breakfast."

"Have you given any thought to the matter I raised before breakfast?"

"Huh?"

"…Do you remember me coming into your room this morning?"

"…Um, no? Did you?"

"…."

"But I would remember it if you'd come, wouldn't I? Hey stop rolling your eyes!"

"…."

"Hey Puppet, where're you going? Puppet?"

"Come to me when you're ready to be home again!"

"Wha-? But I _am_ home—Puppet, wait up!"

_-End Flashback-_

P-LP-LP-L

I managed to extract the reason for her absentmindedness shortly after. Surprisingly, or maybe naturally, it was because of a boy. I was 17 by then and I'd seen the symptoms often enough in the girls around me—not that I'd expected to see the same in my baby sister. Huh? You say that 15's not 'babyish'? It is so too! Younger siblings will always be infants in their elders' eyes.

Lily didn't tell us much about him then, only that he was a classmate of sorts. I suppose she wanted to see whether the relationship would last before she brought the whole affair out into the open. Wise of her, since that particular fling broke through soon enough. We never did find out the guy's name, though, so don't ask.

You're welcome to guess, of course. I'm not stopping you.

By the way, would you like a muffin? Baked a batch for Duddlers this morning and there happens to be a little left over. Chocolate, or vanilla, hmm? Some milk to go with it too, perhaps?

P-LP-LP-L

**Scene 3, END**

P-LP-LP-L

Cut!

Right, short break now everyone—time to go over the script again. Where did you say we were going to tweak in the Hogwarts' Tour?


End file.
